


Dream-Sequence Consumption

by Tcharlatan



Category: Hanna Is Not A Boy's Name
Genre: Drabble Collection, Early Work, M/M, Metaphors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-06
Updated: 2012-12-06
Packaged: 2017-11-20 11:23:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/584881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tcharlatan/pseuds/Tcharlatan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A pair of fully-metaphorical descriptions of Conrad finally giving in to Worth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Spider and The Bat

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own any of the characters in the webcomic Hanna is Not a Boy's Name and do not profit from this work.

All he had to do was wait. It was easy enough; spiders are known for their patience, after all. Long, skinny legs cross comfortably as the spider watches his prey with sharp, hungry eyes. Flitting about, coming near his web oh so many times, but always managing to skirt the snare just barely. Always running off with his friends to gather food with them. The others knew how dangerous the spider’s lair was, but also that it was the best hunting ground. They kept the tasty little morsel just out of his reach. That was fine, he could wait.

His prey for the past few weeks was a bat, young and still a bit clumsy when it came to catching his own food. The spider had… snacked periodically, but always watched and waited for this appealing little bit, almost obsessing for all his patience. Short black hair shone in the moonlight, dark eyes darted about skittishly and the spider shifted his long legs ever so slightly, eager for this particularly enticing specimen to succumb to the inevitable. The clumsy bat hadn’t eaten in quite some time, and this time was out hunting well separated from his bothersome friends; it was perfect. The spider had left an especially juicy bit of food out to lure the bat in closer, still warm and fresh.

Settling back into his usual resting spot, the spider watched his bat flit to and fro, as if apprehensive of the bait. It rested so temptingly out in the open, tantalizing but suspicious. It had to be too easy, didn’t it? The little bat was used to having to fight for his meals. His pride stung to have to take food, but he knew he wasn’t adept at catching it on his own. He knew the spider was lurking about, and had been warned in the past to tread this area with caution. But he was so hungry, and his sharp senses were filled with the smell of fresh blood so close.

Finally the bat gives in to its hunger and goes for the bait, and the spider springs into action. Long limbs move with shocking grace and speed to meet the startled creature and pull it into a smothering embrace.

The bat is quickly overwhelmed.

Devoured.

_Savored._

 

 


	2. The Sun and The Moon

The moon circled slowly, restlessly, always watching from the dark. Circling, white, circling, cold, circling, dead, circling… Soft, pale, feeling small and unsure of himself. But if he was dead, why was he so restless? If he shone so white and stark in this sea of tiny stars, how was he so easily overlooked? Why was he always ignored, always in the background? He didn’t crave attention, really, but still at times, doesn’t everyone want just a glance?

The sun- oh, the sun. Pale like the moon, but with a golden mane, and a blazing temper. He lashed out at random, cruel and vicious, but still was the refuge, the savior, the one that all others gravitated to. He never circled, just waited, grinning, as others came to him, begging to be warmed and always being burned, but inevitably coming back.

Including the moon; circling, cold, circling, dead, circling, _hungry!_

He pretended, almost desperately, that he was dragged along but he basked more than anyone else in the light and the heat – oh, the heat! – that the sun exuded. The moon was cold, always cold; incapable of producing his own heat but with every passing circle he soaked up as much energy from that bastard sun as he could, relished it, savored it. Earthly pursuits would at time keep him cold, in the dark, alone and so far away from the sun and in those moments, the moon was sure he might freeze and shatter into a million pieces. Then he would pass back into the light and swear he might be consumed by that heat if only he could get closer! He ached for that heat; circling, cold, circling, dead, circling, _angry!_

What shame the moon felt, always circling, shame and anger and frustration eating away at him. There was solace in his friendships, though his closest friend was a bit watery and constantly spinning about, oblivious to the moon’s trouble. Why the sun? Why one so volatile? But it didn’t matter, logic didn’t matter, all that mattered was the heat, the violence, the burning and though he knew there was no way he wouldn’t be consumed entirely, he also knew that he couldn’t stand another pass through the darkness, alone. On his next circle he steeled himself, and hurled himself into the sun, letting the heat wash over him, through him, all around him.

And the universe exploded.

 

 


End file.
